


Notoriety Comes To Those Who Wait

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M, Movie fic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sentinel story inspired by the movie Notorious, staring Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notoriety Comes To Those Who Wait

Notoriety Comes To Those Who Wait - gena 

"Blair, I'm sorry!" Naomi Sandburg grabbed her son's arm, halting his rush from the room. "I just wanted you to know before the trial, that's all." 

"That's all?" Blair rounded on her, deep blue eyes almost black with rage. "You breeze back into town after five years just so you can finally tell me about my old man?" He pulled away, hair flying around his flushed face, "oh, by the way sweetie," he mocked, "you're father is a murdering drug dealer about to be convicted in a trial that'll make O.J.'s look like it took place in Mayberry." His smile twisted into a nasty parody, "I can't believe this, Naomi. Why tell me now?" 

"Because," Naomi faltered, her brown eyes filling with tears, "because he wants to meet you." 

Blair Sandburg could only stare in silent amazement at his mother. He opened his mouth but no fragment of human speech could convey the depth of shock and disbelief raging in his blood. With a shake of his head, he turned and disappeared into the bright sunshine of a Cascade, Washington day. He had to move, had to outrun the wild desperation festering in his soul. He roamed the familiar streets, shoving aside the horror his mother's words had kindled within him with the simple pleasure of places he knew and loved. In Bayside park he idled on a sunny bench, in Chinatown he ate Dim Sum in a tiny restaurant where no one spoke American and that night he danced until dawn at a warehouse they called Club Doom. But in the end he couldn't run away from Fate. 

"Remain seated and don't try to pass him anything," the guard instructed and stepped back. Blair shifted uncomfortably, very aware of the people watching him. A door opened and Anthony Cabot shambled through, feet shackled and wrists cuffed to a chain around his waist. Blair flinched back, breath catching as the man neared him. 

"Blair? My god, you look so much like Naomi!" Cabot's grin reminded him of a death's head and it was all Sandburg could do to stay in his seat. 

"Uh, okay, thanks," Blair cast a glance around the room and a dozen eyes refused to meet his. "So why did you want to meet me - now?" 

Cabot shrugged, "just thought I should. My life expectancy has dropped dramatically in the last couple of days in case you hadn't noticed. I figured I should at least see you once." He leaned close, casting a sideways glance at the guards who tensed like windup toys. "I've got secrets, kid, secrets these shitheads would just love to know." 

"Secrets?" Blair frowned. He wanted nothing to do with the guy, but something in Cabot's eyes reminded him of a little boy just dying to spill his guts. 

"Yeah, secrets like DEA goons operating their own pipeline." He smirked, cocking an eyebrow at the nearest guard. "These Bozos are fallin' all over themselves just to get the names." 

"Then tell them," Blair urged, "make up for some of the shitty things you've done in life." 

Cabot barked a laugh. "You've been around your hippy mom too long, kid. I'm not tellin' them a thing. Maybe I'll tell you." 

"Me? I don't what to know anything," Blair whispered. 

"You will." 

Weeks passed and each one came with Blair's solemn promise to himself to refuse Cabot's request to visit. The press had already unearthed the story, portraying it as a passing of the torch. Reporters speculated on the content of their conversations, scheming to record anything at all. Cabot's lawyers took great pains to ensure the confidentiality of the meetings, and before Sandburg knew it he was in a soundproof room with the guy. But all the maneuvering was lost on Blair, Cabot's words became part of the buzz which seemed to fill his skull, a low drone he couldn't escape. He wanting nothing more than to clamp his hands over his ears and block it all out, to never come here again. Each time he left the courthouse holding cells, Blair vowed never to return, he wanted nothing to do with the man or his vast empire of drugs. And yet, time after time he came back, pulled by a lingering dread and a need to know what might lay within his own soul. Blair would sit there, not listening to the words Cabot poured out, but sickened by the thought that some part of this man, some hideous quality might surface in his own heart, The evening before Cabot's verdict would be read, Blair sat, mutely staring at the man who had fathered him. "Blair, this is the important stuff," Cabot hissed. The guards were in their usual positions, close but not near enough to eavesdrop. Cabot's high-priced lawyers hired special security people to insure no illegal police listening devices disturbed their client's right to privacy with his son, but they could not ensure that Sandburg would want to hear any of it. 

"No," Gasping, panic racing through his veins and spiking his heart up against his ribs, Blair leapt to his feet. His chair clattered to the floor, gunshot sharp and just as effective for bringing silence. "No," the rasp which tore from his throat barely sounded like his own voice. The guards stiffened, hands dropping to the pistols they wore as Blair staggered back. 

Cabot grinned his leering grin one last time. "It's your legacy, son." A guard moved forwards, catching the drug dealer's elbow as Blair continued to back away. "Give my love to Naomi." 

Flashbulbs popped like Champagne corks adding to the chaotic swirl which erupted around the young man as Blair stumbled down the jailhouse steps. Reporters scrabbled over one another to ask asinine questions, "How will Cabot's arrest affect the drug trade?" "What was it like to meet your father for the first time?" "Will you be taking over the family business?" Blair heard it all as a static. Drained to the point of sheer exhaustion he flagged down a cab and escaped the frenzy. 

"Where to buddy?" the cabbie asked. Where? For the first time in his life Blair had no idea where he was heading. His life, which had once been as clearly visible before him as the precise articles he churned out, had spun out of control. Now he floundered in a sea of uncertainty, the neat pages of his future fluttering in a breeze stirred to tornadic force by tabloid reporters. A boy genius on his own since age 16 when he received a full scholarship to Rainier, a world traveler, and respected teacher, Sandburg now found himself portrayed in the press as a shiftless, unemployed slacker living off government grants and indulging in reprehensible habits. Reality became whatever sold papers, they glossed over his achievements, ignoring the scholarship references and played him up as next in line to take over his father's business. Naomi didn't faired any better, reporters painted her as a flaky slut dragging her son to the ends of the earth and into company no child should keep. His old life disappeared overnight, destroyed in a firestorm of media speculation. Friends drifted away and opportunists filled the vacuum with blinding speed and in a carefully worded letter Rainier University advised discreet association - in other words they didn't want the son of a ruthless drug lord on their staff. A social pariah, Blair gazed blankly at the cab driver, trying to imagine some place the reporters wouldn't find him. They were camped on his own doorstep, his mother's hotel had become a virtual prison, he couldn't hide in his office at Rainier. "Hey, buddy," the cab driver said, "got a place in mind or shall I just drive around." 

"Uh, 725 Grand," Blair finally said. Samantha Kingsley had a huge warehouse apartment there. They'd dated for a month or two and remained friends. Sam was a party girl but she'd never turn him away. The driver dropped him off, not entirely happy with the fifty cent tip, and left Blair standing on the corner. Too tired to even notice the line of cars at the curb or hear the dull thump of music coming from the building, Blair climbed into the rickety elevator. All he wanted was sleep. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to explain how it was all wrong - he wanted to be left alone. 

"Blair! We saw you on the tube!" Sam shrieked when the door finally opened. The cavernous apartment crawled with a raucous swarm of people and most of them turned to stare at him as Sam pulled him inside. "Wow, your old man is a creep!" She clamped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with horror. "Sorry, really." 

"'s okay," Blair said. "Look, I just needed a place to crash, but," he gestured to the crush and shook his head. 

"Come on," she urged, "just say "hi"" Sam flashed a winning smile and Blair found himself agreeing. She tugged him into the jammed room and her friends flocked around him like pigeons, peppering Sandburg with questions about the whole sorted mess. Blair fended them off as best he could, too drained by the emotional turmoil he'd been through to be coherent, and soon enough they grew bored and left him alone. The mind numbing beat of the music, the kinetic energy of so many people intent on having a good time, swept him up. Blair threw himself into dancing, letting go of the future and living in the moment. Droplets of sweat flew in all directions as he wrapped himself around first one partner then another. Lost in the pleasure of human contact, hours passed unnoticed. Eventually the crowd began to dwindle and shaking with fatigue Sandburg managed to find a empty corner where he propped himself against the wall, and just breathed. 

"Here have a beer." The voice, right at his elbow, made Blair jump. 

"Toby! Shit, man, you scared me." 

"Sorry," Toby Waller apologized. Shy, bookish, and with dark eyes which followed Blair's every move, Toby smiled. 

"That's okay," Blair said. He slung an arm around Toby's shoulders, pulling their bodies together. Fat beads of sweat popped out on Waller's forehead and trickled down his temples. Sam would not be pleased to see her former boyfriend making a move on her current squeeze, but for once in his life Blair found he didn't give a shit about anything. "Toby, baby, where you been?" Waller blushed, silently offering the beer again. Sandburg took a long gulping pull without releasing his hold on the other man. Alcohol pooled in his stomach sending a rush of bitter warmth through him which seemed to obliterate the self-loathing still churning inside. He worked his way through the remaining brew as a skinny blond drew everyone's attention by dancing on the dining room table in nothing but her bra. He started a second as she took a bow and finished it as two guys took her place, by his third Sandburg could barely see the table. Blair shifted position and when he did the room began to tilt at a sickening angle. "You okay?" Toby asked. 

"Sure, sure, I should get use to this, right? I'm a drug lord's son, shouldn't I be able to handle a couple of beers on an empty stomach?" Waller frowned but didn't answer so Blair closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. He rarely drank enough to become drunk but for once in his life, it seemed like the only way to escape. He allowed himself a foolish chuckle and ended up blinking with incomprehension as Sam came over and extracted Toby from his clutches and out among the writhing throng of dancers. It was then, while his head was spinning, that he noticed the stranger staring at him. The silent, appraising gaze never wavered, nor did the man move. Tall, six feet at least, wide shoulders but a narrow waist, the man had penetrating blue eyes which followed Blair's every move. A slight smile curled his thin lips, arrogant amusement, as he watched Sandburg and Blair felt an irrational need to wipe the smirk off the guy's face by force. 

"Wha'ss your p-problem, Slick?" He challenged, dismissing his slurred words as some weird acoustical phenomena. Like a viper uncoiling, the man rose from his perch on Sam's couch and sauntered to where Blair stood with one hand on the wall the other on a chair back. "You want a piece of this?" Blair slapped a clumsy fist into his chest and almost toppled into the man. 

"I wouldn't mind." The purr sent a chill down Blair's spine. If he'd envisioned a viper before now he faced a lethal feline. "Why don't we go someplace more - private," the big man suggested. Blair looked him up and down, and for once in his life gave into the reckless streak he'd struggled to curb. 

"You know where there's another party?" 

"We could make our own," the stranger replied. Blair considered the possibility. The man was very good looking, his black t-shirt stretched over a gorgeous chest and blue jeans clung to muscled thighs and a firm butt like butter to bread. Blair wanted to fuck him right there, but a remaining spark of rationality made him grab the man's hand and pull him towards the door. 

"Blair! Blair! You can't leave!" Sam barred his way at the door. "You're trashed, you need some sleep, baby." 

"I don't need any fucking thing," Blair growled, "my old man saw to that." He stomped out the door, trailed by the quiet stranger and ended up wandering along the deserted street for a half a block or so. A cold wind had come up and Blair shivered inside his thin jacket. 

"Cold?" His new companion slipped off his own coat and held it out. Blair took the jacket and wrapped it around himself. It smelled of cologne and sweat and for some reason made him feel very safe. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Blair remembered he'd arrived in a cab. "Hmm, got wheels, man?" 

"Sure, where would you like to go?" A strong hand took his elbow, towing him towards an ancient blue and white Ford truck. 

"What the hell kinda ride is this?" Blair asked. 

"A classic." 

"Yeah, sure. Gimme the keys." Sandburg held out his hand, glaring at his companion. He could make out the amused smile on the man's face and once again the desire to wipe it away forced him into a rash action. "Keys, now or so help me I'll walk away." The stranger hesitated a moment longer then dropped a set of keys into his outstretched hand. 

"Friends don't let friends drive drunk," he said, "but I guess I'll make an exception since we're not friends - yet." Sandburg ignored him, unlocked the door and climbed into the old truck. His companion followed and a moment later they peeled out with a ear splitting screech. They made it out of town, weaving across the center line and coming dangerously close to parked cars before he looked over at the truck's owner. The arrogant smirk had faded, lines of concern creased the man's brow. "How fast 'm I goin'?" 

"Fifty." 

"Let's try eighty!" One part of his brain knew exactly how stupid his actions were but one look at the man's strained expression wiped rationally thought away in an alcoholic haze of triumph. It wasn't until the stranger reached out, jerking the wheel to the left that Blair knew he was in real trouble. "I can do it," he insisted but the wail of a siren cut him off. Beside him, the man winced at the sudden noise but still managed to reach over and tap his foot on the brake. 

"Step out of the car with you hands where I can see them!" 

Blair fumbled with the door while his companion exited on his side. The two uniformed officers stayed safely back until both men were standing at the rear of the truck. "Here's my ID, officer." The stranger carefully produced a wallet, the two cops' eyes widened, shifting over the man and then over Sandburg. One of the uniforms walked back to the patrol car and after a moment on the radio returned. 

"Sorry, Mr. Ellison, I didn't know." He eyed Sandburg, "it might be better if you drove." 

"Of course," Ellison agreed, "just a little misunderstanding." The two cops got back into their car and drove off leaving Blair staring after them. 

"No ticket? Why didn't they throw me in jail?" Sandburg demanded. "What did you show him?" 

"Just my ID," Ellison said. He opened the truck door and waved Blair inside. 

"Ellison, that's what he called you, right? Well, Mr. Eli-Ellison," came the slightly slurred but fully mocking voice, "that makes you a fucking cop! I should have known! I am not going anywhere with you." Blair turned, wobbling a bit, righted himself but soon found his back slammed up against the side of the truck hard enough to rock it. "Leave me alone." 

"No, I won't. Now get in the truck before I knock you out and do it for you!" A rock hard body pressed the length of his own and Blair struggled more against the desire to ravish this annoying cop than the restraint. He pushed Ellison back and brought his knee up, missing his target but slamming into the cop's thigh with enough force to bring a muffled groan. "You shit!" He clearly saw the fist drawn back, but even before it could land the world began to fade into dark spots. An instant later, Blair felt himself falling and hoped it was into some bottomless hole where he would never have to face the truth of what lurked within his own soul. 

*** 

Jim Ellison gazed at the ratty little menace he'd been assigned to recruit. Some cakewalk this was turning out to be. A last favor to an old friend, one quick case before he was out for good and it had to be Sandburg. He was too old for this, he'd given up his life for Duty and in the past month his sanity seemed to be following suit. As if on cue, a needle of pain speared through his head, caused by the twin beams of headlights coming towards him like two missiles aimed directly at his skull. "Not now," Ellison gasped. He'd told himself all he needed was rest, the doctors hadn't discovered some dire disease, no brain tumor, no rare disorder. His senses were going haywire only because he was exhausted and needed to leave behind the stress of working for National Security. As soon as he delivered his package, he spared the unconscious form draped across the Ford's bench seat a baleful glance, he could pick up the pieces of his existence and start over. "Alone," a little voice inside him whispered in mournful certainty. 

Ellison placed a hand on Sandburg's head, lifting until he could slip into the truck then let the curly head rest on his thigh. "Who the hell are you?" he said softly. Having spent more than a month in a remote section along the Canadian border, he knew very little about Blair Sandburg. He'd heard the news reports, there was no way to avoid those. Every local station, every newspaper had flashed Sandburg's photo at all hours of the day and night. He had no love for drug addicts, they were a waste of skin as far as he was concerned and when Banks insisted he babysit Sandburg, Jim wanted no part of the whole situation. He'd told Banks as much, citing everything from his recent health problems to his prejudices but Banks insisted. He'd followed Sandburg to the thundering hell which passed as a party, watched him flirt with every warm body that crossed his path, seen the glazed eyes and cavalier attitude and not been surprised at all. He'd expected a drugged out slacker and that's what he had sprawled across him like a lap warmer right now. Well, it was nothing to him, once he delivered Sandburg to Simon Banks, head of National Security, he would wash his hands of the whole mess. Jim stroked one sensitive finger down the beard shadowed cheek, "you're a pest, Chief. I can't be rid of you too soon." He started the truck and headed to his own apartment. 

852 Prospect. He'd owned the converted loft for almost three years but in reality it looked as if he'd only recently moved in. He had a couch and a TV, a dining room table and four chairs. The large sleeping loft held only a king size bed and a dresser for his clothes. His ex-wife had striped the place to the bare essentials but that was fine with him, Jim had all he needed - he told himself that anyway. He carried Sandburg slung over his shoulder, fumbling with his keys as the young man dangled limply. He knew he should have taken the kid to Banks immediately but something stopped him, he figured it was the spark he'd glimpsed in Sandburg's eye, the fiery glow which leapt out and touched a lonely man. 

"Get a grip, Ellison," Jim chided himself. He heaved Blair onto the spare bed tucked back in the small room which lay beneath his own. "Sleep well, buddy," he murmured, pulled Sandburg's boots off and tossed a blanket over him. In the morning, if the kid was coherent, they would talk about his future. It would be rough to convince the younger man to volunteer his help, but if they could get him to do this one job, the benefits to the US would be immeasurable. Jim reached over to flip off the light, but paused with a trembling hand inches from its goal. The light was off. He could see Sandburg as plainly as if it were day and yet they were in a windowless room in the dead of night. Jim closed his eyes, backing away until he crashed into the doorjamb. Only when he had fled to the safety of his own room, lying in his big bed, did Jim give into the terror which was never too far away. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," he told himself over and over and when his throat ached and he was so hoarse the words were unrecognizable, Jim Ellison fell asleep. 

**** 

"Ohhhhh," Blair debated sitting up, but wisely stayed put until the world could pick a direction in which to spin and stick with it for more than three seconds. 

"Not use to it?" A cool voice inquired. "I'd think hangovers would be the norm for you." 

"Listen, asshole," Sandburg cracked open an eye and only then realized he hadn't the vaguest idea where he was or who the blurry creep baiting him from the far side of the room might be. "What happened last night?" 

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." The voice neared and Blair squinted which made the blur resolve into a tall, well built man. He would have been handsome but his face was twisted up as if he smelled something bad. Blair wrinkled his own nose, something did smell bad. God, it was him. He was lying on a narrow bed in what looked like a storeroom, his shirt had nasty gray stains down the front, his jeans from the knees down were caked with mud and his socks looked rather stiff. "Easy, Chief," the guy advised, "no fancy stuff 'til you master walking." 

"Wait a minute!" Blair pulled away, swaying dangerously but staying upright. "You're that - that cop. Ellington." 

"Ellison." 

"Whatever," Blair waved away the interruption, "what the hell do you want from me?" 

"Right now, I just want you to stop stinking up my apartment." Ellison gripped him around the waist and propelled him out of the room. A moment later Blair found himself standing all alone in a small bathroom. "Use lots of soap," came the bellow from outside. If someone hadn't been banging away at his skull with a sledgehammer Blair felt sure he would have marched out there and decked the guy. Instead, unable to ignore the continued stench of his own vomit, Blair grudgingly turned on the shower, stripped and cleaned himself off. He took great pleasure in the task, using an ungodly amount of water, slathering himself with shower gel, and his hair with shampoo. His ignored the frustrated shouts from the man waiting and only gave up when he'd exhausted the supply of bath products. Blair rinsed off, wrapped himself in a huge towel and wandered out into the living room. His host stood at the balcony windows, staring into space. 

"I hope I meet with your approval now, Ellison," he snapped. "I'd hate to offend you any more than I have." Ellison ignored him. "Look, I don't remember all of last night, but - I'm sorry, okay?" The man didn't say a word. Blair sighed, and turned away. Rummaging around the room where he'd awaken, he found a pair of sweats and the jacket Ellison had loaned him the night before. He slipped into fresh clothes and headed for the door. He gave the cop a last look and when he did something about the man struck him as not right. "Hey, Ellison? You okay?" He moved to the man's side, alarmed by the utter stillness, the barely perceptible breaths he drew, the unfocused eyes. "Ellison?" Blair reached out, touching Ellison's shoulder, and when this provoked no reaction, boldly placed a hand to the man's cheek. "Ellison, can you hear me?" Slowly, one heartbeat at a time, Ellison came back from where he'd been. 

"Wh-what happened?" Elliosn shook his head, blinking rapidly as he scanned the room. "What are you doing?" A heavy arm came up and knocked Blair's hand away. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"Chill, okay! You phased out or something," Blair explained and watched in horror as Ellison's face drained bloodless. "Easy, easy, sit down." 

"I don't want to sit down!" The larger man grabbed two fists full of sweatshirt, yanking Blair up onto his toes. "I want answers!" 

"Hey, Caveman Jim, put me down or you get squat." A lifetime of being pushed around by bigger guys had taught Blair a few lessons, he knew he had to shove back with equal force or lose the war before it really began. He pressed both hands to Ellison's chest and got right in his face. "Let. Go. Of. Me." It worked, a moment later he was staring up at Ellison's ashen features from his normal height. "So, what's the story on the zone out and the Caveman Jim routine." 

"Don't say that." 

"What? Caveman Jim?" Sandburg asked mildly. "It's just an expression." 

"Yeah? Jim's also my name," Ellison snapped. He glared at Sandburg then shook his head. "I've been having problems lately," he admitted. "Now, if we're done with the inquisition." A stern look quelled any Pythonesque response Blair might have been tempted to make. "We can get down to business." 

"Business? I don't have any business with you." 

Blair remembered the smug expression from the night before. "Sure you do." A sense of dread swept over him, fueled by the words Ellison spoke. "I'm not a cop, I work for National Security and we need your help." Blair knew he should say something, Ellison was standing there with an expectant look on his face, but for the life of him he couldn't think of a word. "Look, this is really important, Sandburg. You can help us bring down a major source of drugs into the country, or don't you want to?" The penetrating eyes narrowed, "I know you indulge, but you don't want some fifth grade kid doing the same, do you?" 

He indulged? "Listen you stupid dick," Blair growled, he couldn't believe the government had sent such a tactless loser to gain his help. "What I do or don't do is none of your business. I have nothing to do with Anthony Cabot or his business. Now I suggest you get the hell out of my way." 

Ellison scowled, "look, my boss thinks you could be valuable in helping curb the flow of drugs into the state. People down in Columbia, Nicaragua, and Chili know your father, they know he met with you." 

"So I'm the tethered goat," Blair guessed. "They reel me in to see what Cabot told me, right?" 

"Something like that," Ellison said with a shrug. "I don't know the details. We won't until we get down to Santiago." A grudging smile lit the older man's face for a fleeting second, "what do you say?" 

Blair stared a Ellison. What the hell? He had nothing else going, his career was practically over, his mother a recluse in a hotel room, his friends afraid he'd corrupt them and this cop - excuse me, Security officer, thought he was some kind of drug addict. "Sure, why not? Maybe I'll get lucky and get to spent more time in your sparkling company." 

"I don't sparkle," Ellison said, "ever." But the glint in his eye ruined the effect. 

***** 

"So when are you going to tell me?" Blair asked. The plane dipped and beside him Ellison squeezed his eyes shut, one hand pressed to his forehead. "You okay, man? You're lookin' a little green." 

"Headache," Jim admitted through clenched teeth. "The sound of the engine reminds me of a drill." It took him several moments to pull himself together, moments Blair spent holding on to his wrist and speaking in a soft, reassuring voice. It wasn't long before Ellison opened his eyes and stared directly into his. "Thanks, Chief." The genuine appreciation caught Sandburg off guard. 

"You're welcome." They shared a smile. "What's this problem you've been having? Maybe I can help?" 

"What you're a neurologist now, Sandburg?" Jim pulled his wrist away, crossing his arms over his chest and presenting a facade as welcoming as Mt. Everest. 

"No, just an unemployed student with a shredded reputation." 

"Well deserved, I bet," Ellison snapped. 

"Yeah, man, it is. You read the tabloids, I deserved it, right?" Blair sat back in his seat, fist clenched. He felt Ellison turn to him and almost met him halfway but then the bigger man rose from his seat. Blair watched him make his way forward, stopping to speak with a black man several rows ahead of where they were sitting. Ellison frowned, nodded then came back. "Boyfriend?" Blair asked. 

"Nope, boss," Ellison said. "He just got some news." Blair glanced sideways at Jim, noting the uncertain look he wore. "Your father killed himself this morning. They found him hanging in his cell." 

Blair absorbed the news without a trace of emotion. He sat, staring at Ellison's face, and nothing inside him reacted at all. "I should feel something," he whispered. "He was my father, but," he blinked, searching his companion's eyes for some hint as to what he should display, "but I'm just relieved it's over. Now I don't have to hate him, or myself." Ellison dropped his gaze but his hand found Blair's and for the rest of the trip he gripped it tightly in his. 

They landed in Santiago, and went straight to the hotel. It granted a breath taking view of Santa Lucia Hill and the Castillo Gonzalez, with its imposing ramparts. "It's paradise!" Sandburg wandered out to the balcony, looking out over the sparkling lights of the city at night. "God, I think I could start over in a place like this." 

"But that's not going to happen, Chief," Ellison said softly from just behind him. "You're here to use that family tree." A slight roughness in his tone made Blair turn and he caught the tail end of an expression which looked like regret in the other man's eyes. The look which had held them on the plane resurfaced, a kind of longing neither wanted to admit to. Blair couldn't even smile when Ellison reached out and cupped his cheek, all he could think was how much he wished this man cared for him. 

"I'm just the merchandise, right, Ellison?" Jim continued to stare at him, his thumb running gentle lines over Blair's cheekbone. He didn't wait for an answer or even a protest, just reached up the few inches which separated them in height and kissed the other man. 

***** 

Jim tasted the salty tears which had bathed his thumb the moment his lips met Sandburg's. The younger man pushed him back, guiding him to the edge of the bed and tumbling them onto the wide mattress. "You still think I'm a player," Blair insisted. Jim wanted to deny it, but when he opened his mouth, Sandburg sealed it shut with his own. Hands skimmed his chest leaving finger sized embers in their wake. It had been so long since he'd allowed anyone to touch him, to reach inside his soul like this and touch the real him, that Jim struggled to escape. "Don't fight this," Blair hissed and clamped hard thighs over Jim's to hold him still. Sandburg went to work ripping at Ellison's shirt until buttons flew in all directions and the sting of cool air sent him arching up against the mouth now feeding off his aching nipples. Jim could feel his mind shutting down, giving in to the pleasure surging through him and an animal need took hold of his heart. He pulled Blair hard against him, moaning as Sandburg's erection bumped his own. That moan deepened, became a soul wrenching howl of pleasure when his jeans were clumsily lowered and Blair's talented fingers squeezed his cock. 

"Do me, Sandburg," he growled. Blair clawed at his hips, forcing him over onto his belly. Teeth marked his shoulders, little spots of pain which inflamed his own hunger, making Ellison writhe on the sheets. Blair bit at his ribs, the small of his back, the tender flesh of his buttocks, then licked at the crevice between them. A filmy haze drifted over Jim's eyes, his hands found the bedposts and he held on until they creaked under the pressure of his grip. "Now, Blair, now," he begged and a moment later Jim heard the frustrated groan his lover made. "Beside the bed," he panted, "the bag." Blair quickly got the idea and soon the coconut scent of hand lotion filled his nostrils. Slick fingers inched inside him, digging through his resistance and leaving him thrashing with desire. Sandburg was thorough but rough, stretching him before plowing inside like a freight train on the downhill grade. Jim found himself jerked up to his knees, still holding onto the headboard and slamming backwards as Sandburg plunged forwards. A rhythm built, echoing in Jim's chest, faster and faster until he thought his heart would burst from the frantic pace. He could feel the raw scrape of Sandburg's unzipped jeans against his ass, and the surge of blood through his lover's veins. Sweat dripped from Blair's face onto his shoulders and sizzled like molten lead as it trickled down his spine. Never before had making love been so intense, with Sandburg Jim would have sworn his flesh dissolved, leaving his soul exposed. 

Behind him, Blair rammed into his ass, one arm locked around Jim's middle hard enough to leave bruises his other hand scratching a path down Ellison's flank and side. With a yell of pure lust, he pulled Jim back until his spine popped and climax roared through him. Jim grabbed his own cock, squeezing so that semen sprayed over his chest, the sheets and headboard. It went on and on, Sandburg's guttural scream replaced by his own and then they both faded into utter silence. Jim floated in a weightless oblivion. He knew he should be somewhere, hear and feel something, but wherever he was all he knew was he didn't want to leave. It took a long time but eventually Jim separated the pounding of his own heart from the urgent sound of a voice calling his name. He surfaced, climbing through layers of white fog until finally he clearly heard Sandburg. 

"Jim! Jim, come on, this isn't a good thing to do to me." Hands patted his cheeks, feathering across his brow. 

"I'm here," he rasped. "I'm okay." 

Blair cuddled close, his body radiating a warmth which went bone deep. "Don't leave again," Blair said in a choked voice. Jim wrapped both arms around him, taking joy in the drowsy and sated bundle. Night swept over them, pushing the world away until only the two remained. Jim didn't sleep, instead he kept watch over the complex man he was growing to care for very deeply. In the early hours when Sandburg stirred, shifting restlessly, Jim smoothed back a few wild curls when his lover's voice stilled his hand. "You're 'fraid, Jim," Blair mumbled from the realms of some dream, "'fraid you'll luv som'one y'should hate." The words faded away in the hushed stillness but the truth spoken stayed with Jim for a long, long time. 

Time held no meaning when a man could wake within the arms of his lover. Jim relished each day he opened his eyes and found Blair curled beside him and not even the threat of a phone call from Banks could diminish his happiness. When another glorious day dawned with no details of the job ahead of them forthcoming Jim announced a day of sightseeing. 

"But when will they let us know?" Blair asked as they strolled along a busy street. They were blessed with sunny days and cloudless skies, the kind of weather perfect for growing things; flowers, children and feelings between individuals. 

"What's your hurry? I thought you wanted to forget the past?" As soon as he said the words, Jim regretted them. The haunted look which had slowly been dissipating from Sandburg's eyes came back, lodging there like a splinter. More and more Jim found himself wanting to take care of the younger man, wipe away that look and leave only the uninhibited smile that made Blair look like a mischievous street urchin. He turned away, unwilling to subject himself to such an embarrassing display of sentiment. "Hey, I'm going to get a paper," he indicated a small store across the street, "want anything?" 

"Nah, I'm just going to wander down a way. Catch up to me." And with that Blair made a show of being fascinated by a window displaying men's clothes. Jim almost went to him but he had no idea what to say, what he could do to erase the doubts which plagued him. Instead he crossed the street to the store and picked up a copy of USA Today. While he dug through his pockets, absently noting how foreign change jingled with different tones than the familiar American coins, Jim couldn't help but smile. The sight of his lover, strolling aimlessly, sunlight igniting the cloud of dark curls with streaks of amber and mahogany, stole his attention. The clerk uttered an accented thank you but Jim didn't notice so caught up in watching Blair outside the window. He could feel the well of emotion he carried for the younger man deepening with each moment he spent with Sandburg and wondered if Blair might felt anything other than relief to be out from under the microscope his existence had become in Cascade. Could the party boy change for the lover of a good man? Jim groaned inwardly, disgusted with the whole cliché but secretly living in hope. 

In the week they'd been Santiago Sandburg hadn't once given him pause to think he was anything but sincere. There had been plenty of opportunities for Blair to fall back into the life Jim imagined he'd been living for a long time. From the moment they'd landed at the airport Sandburg's exotic looks had attracted attention. Wherever they went people were drawn to him, offering whatever Blair desired for a chance to possess him. At a nightclub two nights earlier they'd had a few beers and despite the availability of casual sex and drugs, he'd stayed far away from both. A dozen nubile youths, both male and female, had made their interest known only to be rebuffed out of hand as Blair stuck to his side. That fact sent a thrill through Ellison, he knew he wasn't as young as those potential suitors, certainly couldn't move like them, and had less hair than most of them, but Sandburg's eyes had shown with appreciation whenever their gazes met. So often in his life, Jim's caustic personality and natural reserve had put people off but Blair seemed fearless, and for that alone Jim wanted to believe that Blair Sandburg was not the villain he'd been portrayed. 

And when they'd returned to their hotel room that night Ellison's feelings, buried so deep within himself he couldn't articulate them refused to be denied. He used the only tool available to him - sex. Before, it had been rough and wild, each taking pleasure in the pure masculinity of the other, using their strength to subdue and capture. That night, Jim held him, caressing Blair's face with reverent hands, worshipping in silence. The strangely sensitized abilities he now possessed allowed him to know every line, every expression, the curve of Blair's lips, the feather light weight of his eyelashes. Since the long weeks alone on his last mission, the freaky state of his senses had seemed a curse but that night Jim thanked god for them. To be able to hear the gossamer sighs his touch brought from Blair's lips, to smell his lover's arousal from across the room, and taste the tangy flavors which made up the sweat passion beaded on Sandburg's brow was a treasure to be guarded like gold. Hours had passed as he kissed and explored his younger lover, hours in which he brought Blair to the brink of ecstasy time and again only to calm him with gentleness and start over. And when they had lain sweaty and exhausted, Sandburg's arms around him, whispered words torn from the bottom of his soul and forced like a march through Bataan rose up through his body. He'd not said them then, and part of Jim realized he'd been damaged too badly by life to give someone that power over him. It was hard to trust when you were waiting for a knife to be thrust through your heart, hell he'd even pressed the blade in himself when his lover proved too slow. 

Jim's pensive gaze, soft and unfocused, slowly sharpened as he saw Blair stop beside a skinny teenager but fond indulgence soon turned to anxiety as his lover engaged the boy in conversation. Without realizing exactly what he was doing, Jim let his hearing focus on the pair across the street. 'No, man," the boy was saying, "ten dollars American. It's good shit, worth it, you know?" "Yeah, I'm sure," Blair's voice sliced Jim's heart as cleanly as a razor, "what else you selling? And to Ellison's ear, the sultry tone hurt like a slap in the face. He could only stand paralyzed by the depth of betrayal he felt as Sandburg dug into his back pocket, wallet gleaming in bright sunlight. Lies. How could it all be lies? Jim's knees weakened, and the blood drained from his face as the full implication struck him - his father had often accused him of being a fool and being a fool for love made him the worse kind. Gritting his teeth, Jim took a step towards the door but as he did the clerk, restocking an empty shelf, knocked against a display of canned goods. The echoing crash tore through Jim's skull, he covered his ears with his hands, eyes squeezed shut, and when the noise abated and he could see again the kid was gone and Blair was making his way between cars towards him. 

"Whoa," he laughed as a can rolled out in front of him, "this a Chilean custom I don't know about?" He grinned at Ellison but it wilted an instant later. "Jim? What's wrong, man? You look pale, did something happen? Did you're senses wig out again?" 

"What's it to you, Sandburg?" Jim snarled. He gripped Blair's biceps and yanked him outside, walking so quickly Blair had to trot along or be dragged. "You and that kid strike a deal?" 

"Deal?" Blair frowned, and when understanding dawned, dug in his heels, forcing Ellison to stop. "Oh, I see. People don't change in your world, do they Ellison? You just can't believe I'm not exactly what you think I am, can you?" 

"I know what you are," Jim said through clenched teeth. "The kid had a little weed and you wanted some - great, but to proposition him when I'm right there." Ellison looked away. "Shit, Sandburg, you'll screw anything, won't you?" 

"Yeah, Jim," Blair said softly, "I will." He pulled away, walking with his head down, towards their hotel. 

"Blair." Jim barely recognized the broken whisper which came from his own lips. He rushed to Sandburg's side, pushing him into the sheltering shadow of a doorway and took his lover's mouth in a brutal assault. "Chief, oh, Blair, I'm sorry." He kissed Blair's eyelids, his cheeks, trailing over to whisper endearments in his ear. With his eyes closed, he couldn't see the anguish in Blair's expression. 

****** 

Blair Sandburg woke from a dream where the bells of a Gothic church were tolling his doom to find that in the modern world such portents of disaster were announced by the phone. "Y-yeah," he croaked into the receiver. 

A pause, then "Ellison?" 

"Wait a minute," Blair murmured and poked the man beside him. "'s for you, Jim." Ellison took the phone with a terse "yes" and Blair closed his eyes as Quasimodo geared up for another chorus. Jim hung up the phone, trailing a strong hand over Blair's shoulder as he did. 

"That was Banks," he whispered, "he wants to meet with me this morning." 

"So, this is it?" Blair sat up, struggling for indifference. 

"I guess so." Jim laid his head on Blair's chest, sighing. "You could stay right here and keep the bed warm until I get back," he suggested. 

"This is a strange love affair," Blair whispered. The flicker of Jim's eyelashes tickled his belly. 

"How so?" Jim murmured, kissing at the tiny tremors he was causing. 

"Because you don't love me." He felt Jim close his eyes, the heavy weight of his head resting so snug against him. 

"When I don't love you," Ellison promised, "I'll let you know." 

"You've never said anything," Blair insisted. 

Jim sat up, staring into his eyes then a grin spread across his face and he leaned in for a deep kiss. "I'm a man of action." They kissed again, breaking apart only with reluctance. "This could take a few hours but I'll be back, okay?" 

"Meet me for lunch," Blair said quickly. "In Parque Forestal, where we saw the kids flying kites, remember? We'll have a picnic." 

Ellison's smile softened his whole face, he kissed Blair once more and climbed out of bed. "I'll bring the Champagne," he promised. As Blair watched his lover head into the bathroom, he couldn't repress the sense of unease which fell across him like a shadow. 

***** 

White columns rose around the American embassy, standing proud and defiant and as solidly as the country it represented. Within that fortified structure, the embassy housed many agencies charged with protecting Americans both on foreign soil and at home. The Chilean branch was currently playing host to Simon Banks and a group of individuals dedicated to stopping the entrance of drugs into the states. 

"....and you're sure this plan will work, Banks?" A gray haired man questioned. Others took up the dispute, murmuring their reservations about such an important plan hinging on one young man. 

Banks tapped his cigar ash off, then nodded gravely. "Blair Sandburg is out best chance. He has a reputation, undeserved but still quit believable, as a loose cannon. His father being Anthony Cabot and all the ins that will provide, I can't think of a better choice. With Sandburg in place we have an inside source of information on the drug trade." 

"But will he do it," the man persisted. "He's got to get into the Alcante house and stay there." 

Banks grinned, "Maya Carasco, Alcante's niece is the key. Sandburg dated her while she was attending Rainier university in Cascade. By all accounts they were in love." 

"So you use him to get to her and Maya to get to her uncle." A grudging respect crept into the gray man's face. "Brilliant!" 

"It is," Banks confirmed. "This way, if it's discovered Sandburg is working for us, Alcante looks like an idiot with the cartel and we all know what happens when the cartel is unhappy." Murmurs of agreement and knowing looks met his words. 

"Have you told Ellison what his charge will be doing?" Someone else asked. Ellison'd dedication to his job and the people he protected had given him a reputation as a formidable, but difficult, agent, one who didn't like placing his charges in unnecessary danger. 

"No," Banks said and for the first time his face took on an uncertain expression. "No, I haven't." 

"Mr. Ellison is here," a disembodied secretary's voice informed them. "Shall I send him in?" 

Simon took a deep breath, "yes, send him in." He'd known James Ellison for a long time, they had shared hard times as well as good times but he couldn't pretend to know what when on in the other man's head. Jim didn't open up, what Simon knew about Ellison's private life came from his personal file, and the flimsy account offered no shading to standard facts. He knew Ellison as a dedicated agent, a man who lived by his word, but there was something more to Jim, something he kept hidden and that thing drove him when others would give up. Simon counted Ellison as a friend but whatever it was that Jim needed wouldn't allow him to trust his heart and for that Simon was truly sorry. "James," he greeted as Ellison entered the room, "sit down. This is Mr. Beardsley, Mr. Hudson, Ms. Gregory and Mr. Hernandez." 

"Gentlemen, ma'am." Ellison took a seat, ignoring the inquiring glances he received as he placed a bottle of Champagne on the table beside him. 

"Jim, we just got word that Gustavo Alcante and his son Francisco are back in town," Simon explained. "As you know they're an important link in the Cali cartel drug network. We plan on getting Sandburg into the household to keep tabs on their activities." 

"How are we going to do that, sir?" Ellison asked. His impassive face gave nothing away to the untrained eye but Simon Banks saw the tiny flicker of fear in his agent's gaze. 

The gray haired man took over, "Banks assures us that Sandburg can woo Maya Carasco, Alcante's niece. With his family background and once he's seduced the girl, Alcante will welcome him into the family with open arms." 

Ellison rose slowly to his feet, jaw muscle twitching angrily, "Blair isn't right for the job, sir. He's had no undercover training, nothing to prepare him for this." 

"Jim," Simon rose as well, moving to stand beside his old friend, "Sandburg and Maya Carasco were lovers back in Cascade. Our sources confirm that the only reason they separated was her devotion to her family and his desire to stay in Cascade. I'm sorry but this it the best plan we have." 

"Sorry? No need to apologize, sir. This is a job, my last if you remember," Ellison gave a frosty smile. "I'll go break the news to Sandburg." Nodding to the others, he left. 

Simon looked down at the forgotten Champagne, wondering why the hell he suddenly felt as if he'd condemned his old friend to a long, cold future. 

***** 

He looked at his watch again and the nagging sense of unease intensified. Twelve thirty, Jim was half an hour late and for a man who ranked tardiness right up there with murder, it could only mean something awful had happened. 

"Chief." Jim's soft greeting brought Blair to his feet, whirling to face the older man. 

"Jim! I was worried, you're late." 

"Yeah, couldn't be helped." Jim ignored the place beside Sandburg and settled opposite him. "Let's eat." Blair stared at him, the sank down onto the blanket. 

"What's wrong?" Jim shook his head, pulling food from the basket in front of them. "Come on, spill it, lover. I know," Blair forced a grin, "you're not really gay, just using me for mind-blowing sex." 

"Bet you hear that a lot," Jim said. 

"Right below the belt every time." Sandburg watched Jim pick at the salad he'd packed. "What's the job?" 

"You remember Maya Carasco?" 

"Maya?" Blair felt his face redden, "yes, we - we were lover once a long time ago. Why?" 

"Because you, my little Mata Hari, are about to become lovers once again. The Agency wants you to renew your acquaintance and infiltrate the Alcante household." Ellison shrugged. "It should be easy." 

"You didn't say anything?" 

"Like what?" 

Blair stared at him, at the man he thought he had known despite the short time they'd been together. "You didn't tell them I might not be able to do it?" Ellison said nothing. "Jim? What? You told them I was good at that sort of thing, huh? I'm a real expert at getting people to eat out of my hand and then screw them?" 

"I didn't say anything, okay?" Jim jumped to his feet, turning away to look out over the water. "It's up to you." 

"Up to me? And you said nothing, not one word?" Blair laughed but it wasn't a pleasant sound at all. "Should I do it?" he whispered. 

"It's up to you." 

"Not going to help me out here, are you?" Blair rose to his feet, staring at the wide shoulders. "You won't give me a chance at all, will you? I've tried to tell you I'm not - " he stopped. "Jim, please." 

"Are you doing it or not, Sandburg?" Jim demanded, turning to face him. 

"Sure, why not." A group of young men passed their blanket at that moment and one of them sent a radiant smile in Blair's direction. "Might as well start now," Blair declared and smiled back at the strapping youth. 

******* 

They met by accident - a couple of lost tourists blundering into her boutique in search of directions. Maya gaped at him, then a joyous bubble of laughter escaped and they were in each other's arms. Blair held up his end, smiling and exclaiming and only when her shrewd gaze fell on Ellison did he falter. 

"Who's your friend?" Maya asked with a sweet, appraising lift of her eyebrow. 

"Oh, Jim, we met on the plane," he shrugged, turning to face his lover and was relieved to find Jim wore the impassive expression Blair had grown use to seeing. And so they arranged to meet for dinner and Blair knew there was no turning back even before Ellison graced him with a mocking wink. 

"Is this alright?" Blair asked Jim, glancing down at the suit he wore. The cold stare which had greeted him made him wonder if his fashion sense had failed. "Is my fly undone or something?" 

"Wouldn't that just make things move quicker, Sandburg?" Jim drawled. He rose from the couch and a sense of dèjá vu pinned Blair to the floor - the uncoiling viper of their first meeting. He remembered how he'd courted the danger so recklessly, how he'd thought those deadly fangs would never sink into him, but they had. He'd fallen, Blair Sandburg a victim of his own foolish heart. "Here, let me," Jim stepped close, his handsome face as cold as any serpent but his touch a seductive blend of danger and intimacy. Strong, elegant hands brushed his throat, gently forcing Blair's head back. "What's wrong, Chief," Jim asked in a silky whisper. He'd forgotten how much he craved that touch, how the searing warmth of Ellison's hands became an addiction, one he craved like a junkie. Blair swayed forward, drawn by hunger but a moment later, those intoxicating hands swept away with a flourish, tweaking his bow tie one last centimeter. "There, much better," Ellison assured him, and his manner could have been one used on a stranger for all the passion it contained. Blair nodded, eyes closed against the pain. 

"I like it," Banks said from the doorway. He cast a glance over at Ellison but Jim only shrugged. "How much?" 

"Three hundred." 

"Ouch! Damn, Sandburg, there's going to be another recession if you insist on dressing to the nines for each date," Banks grumbled but signed for the suit. 

"Can't do the job without the right equipment, right Jim?" Blair smiled at Jim and kept smiling even when Ellison excused himself and left. Sandburg saw the speculative glint in Banks' eye. "I better go, I'm to meet her at eight." Blair took the elevator down and as he left the building couldn't shake the feeling of being watched all the way to the restaurant. 

"I can't believe it," Maya said for the third time. She was even lovelier than he remembered but there was also a hardness in her manner Blair could associate with the sweet, homesick exchange student he'd tutored all those long months before. "To run into you here of all places," she with breathless awe. 

"Fate, Kismet, something larger than us," Blair said. "Whatever it is, it feels nice." He took her hand, brushing his thumb lightly over her knuckles. 

"I didn't think you'd ever leave Cascade. What brings you down here, Blair?" She looked into his eyes, the dangerous edge softened by affection, "was it because of your father?" 

"Yeah, I was hounded back home," Blair admitted. He didn't have to act as those particular memories surfaced. "I just had to get away." 

"And the man you were with, Jim, is he the new love of your life?" 

"Jim!" Blair laughed, "we met on the plane. He's pestered me since takeoff, but he's nothing to me." Maya smiled, and took his hand in hers. 

"I'm glad. Maybe we can pick up where we left off," she suggested. "It could be just like old times." Blair kissed her hand, knowing all the time it could never be like it was before, not when he loved Jim Ellison. "My uncle is giving a party tomorrow. Will you come?" 

"I'd love to." With that simple invitation, so easily given and accepted, Blair knew his fate had been sealed. "I'd love to." She left in a fancy car, the door held open by a burly chauffeur, with the unmistakable bulge of concealed weapon. Sandburg stood on the sidewalk long as she went, wondering just what kind of game he was playing and whether winning would hurt as much as losing. 

Blair walked back to the hotel, pausing at the door which connected his room and Ellison's. His hand itched to turn the knob but the cold look which Jim had worn that day in the park still burned within his memory. He climbed into bed but lay staring at the ceiling for a long time, wondering just how his life had gone so terribly wrong. Once he'd had dreams, he was going to be an anthropologist and study the world. Now his life was nothing more than a pile of lies. He was seducing a woman he didn't love and in love with a man who thought him no better than dirt. What did that make him? When he fell asleep his dreams were filled with dark and twisted shapes, all of them wanting to tear him to shreds. He woke the next morning, tired and disheartened, pausing only to phone Banks and explain about the party, Sandburg escaped the room before Ellison made an appearance. Santiago boasted a thousand sights of interest and though he'd visited many with Jim, Blair spent most of the day wandering the streets of the city. He listened to the street music; equal parts language, traffic and celebration, watched the people go about their lives, and marveled at the richness of their culture. For hours he forgot about the job he was there to do, and the man who let him do it. He returned to the hotel, and as he was dressing in another suit paid for by Uncle Sam, Jim came back with Banks in tow. 

"Sandburg, great work," Banks enthused. "Second date and you're already in the house." 

"Yeah, I'm quick," Blair said. "Maya's uncle is hosting this, should be a lot of big-wigs there." 

"Keep your eyes and ears open. Memorize who you see and anything you can find out about them." 

"I'm a good spy, Mr. Banks. Could one of you help me with these French cuffs?" He held his arm out, but Jim turned away and it was left to Banks to help him. "Thanks, man." 

"I think it would be best if you two kept shy of each other," Banks went on. "Jim will be moving to a new hotel, we don't want Miss Carasco getting the wrong idea." His shrewd black eyes swept over both men but neither reacted. "If you find out anything significant, let us know. Otherwise Jim will set up periodic meetings. Any questions?" 

"No," Blair said, "wish me luck?" A car took him to the Alcante estate, a rambling mansion on the outskirts of town and a proper butler met him at the door. "Uh, Blair Sandburg. I'm a guest of Maya Carasco." 

"This way, sir." He was led into a very masculine study, the dark wood paneling and leather furniture somehow intimidating. 

"Mr. Sandburg?" Tall, thin, his black hair a glossy crown over his beautiful face, the man stared at Blair. "I'm Francisco Alcante." 

"Maya's cousin," Blair said. "She's spoken of you often." 

"Really? We haven't heard anything about you in ages." A sneer filled his eyes but never disturbed the practiced pout of his lips. "You didn't testify on your father's behalf. We thought that strange, a little sympathy never hurts, you know." 

"Anthony didn't want me to," Blair lied, remembering the unsubtle hints his father had dropped to the opposite, "he thought it would ruin my life, Francisco." 

"Blair!" Maya appeared at the door, her chilly gaze stopping Francisco's questions. "Come on, I want you to meet Uncle Gustavo." It could have been a scene out of an old black and white movie, the refined elegance in which Cary Grant always seemed to thrive. Men in tuxedos, women in sparkling evening gowns, soft music and silent waiters. Gustavo Alcante seemed determined to project an image of high class sophistication despite the source of his wealth. He greeted Blair warmly, introducing him to the small gathering. 

"This is Emil Latterly and his lovely wife, Rianne," Alcante indicated a chubby couple in their late fifties. "Hans Gruber, and Hannah." A severe looking man and pink faced woman. "Bernardo and Inez Estevez." Blair took Bernardo's hand and the strength of the man's grip made him wince. Gustavo completed the introductions with the last individual, a course man looking uncomfortable in his suit and without a date, sparked any interest in Sandburg. "This is Ben Chavez, one of your fellow countrymen." Blair, already curious, took special notice of Chavez when the latter made a scene as they were going into dinner. They passed a sideboard and on it sat a collection of wine bottles one of which seemed to alarm Chavez. He paused there, eyes wild as he rattled off something Blair couldn't translate. Francisco silenced him, ushering him to his seat and leaning down to whisper in his ear. 

"So many odd people," Maya said quietly. "I don't know where Cisco finds them all." The rest of dinner passed without incident but Blair couldn't help wondering about the innocent looking wine bottle. 

****** 

"I'm telling you," Francisco snapped, "this isn't the first time Chavez has made a mistake." 

"It's understandable," Gustavo insisted. "He's under a lot of pressure. I think we should be patient." 

Francisco shook his head, "no, Uncle, we can not. The Colonel is not a patient man. He will have us all killed if we allow anything to lead his country's drug enforcement agency back to him. I say we take care of the problem now." 

Gustavo sighed. Looking at the other's gathered there, at their unforgiving faces, he could only nod. "Yes, I suppose it would be best to eliminate the problem now." A knock at the door and Ben Chavez entered, looking nervously around. 

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. No one spoke, forcing Chavez to continue, "I'm also sorry about earlier, Gustavo. I know it was a terrible lapse on my part, but.......this arrangement is so taxing. I'm very tired." 

"Yes, yes, we understand," Alcante waved it all away with his hand. "You should go home and rest, Ben. Francisco will drive you." 

Chavez mopped a hand over his brow, "oh, no that's too much to....." 

"Nonsense," Francisco oozed, "I'd be happy to. Maya, would you ring Fernando and have him bring the car around." 

"Of course, Cisco." With a slight smile, Maya left the room. 

******* 

Blair squinted down at the racing form, working out the odds for his horse. Around him hundreds of other people were doing the same, as another exciting day at the racetrack began. He wove through a crowd watching the horses make their way to the track and took a place at the rail. 

"Blair? I thought it was you! How are you?" Jim Ellison shouldered his way next to Blair, hand outstretched. 

"Jim, man, I didn't know you liked racing." They shook like old friends do, careful not to linger too long. 

"Love it, any hot tips?" Jim peered over Blair's shoulder, face close. "What's up?" 

"Number 10 is suppose to be a great runner," Blair said conversationally then lowered his voice. "Alcante introduced me to a bunch of people," he listed the names, "but there was one, Ben Chavez. Do you know him?" 

"Should I?" Jim cast a sharp look over the crowd. 

"I don't know. He hasn't been around since the night of the party and he did something strange that night." Blair looked away, unable to stand the cool blue eyes which regarded him so impersonally. "He made a big fuss about a bottle of wine." 

"What was wrong with it?" 

"Nothing that I could tell," Blair said with a shrug. Taking a deep breath, he met his former lover's gaze. "You can add Maya to my list of conquests. She's really hooked." 

Ellison stiffened, one hand clenching the rail until his knuckles whitened. A surge of hope washed through Blair, some unnamed emotion tethered by the week he and Jim had had and cemented by the shared pleasure of giving pleasure. But it died, a weak, pathetic infant, killed by the mocking smile Jim wrapped securely in a sneer. "Well, chief, this is going to affect your amateur status." He leaned in close once again, patting Blair's cheek in a parody of bonhomie. "You've gone pro." 

"Yeah," Blair spat, "that's what you wanted, isn't it?" 

"So the new Sandburg was a myth, eh?" Jim hissed and all pretense dropped away for an instant. "I knew she couldn't resist your charm. I couldn't." 

"Don't give me that shit, Ellison," Blair snapped. "You could have stopped me. All you had to do was say the word." 

"Not my place." Jim squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his temple. "Damn," he swore under his breath, then backed off slightly, "let's not fight, Sandburg, it's giving me a headache. Besides, if you didn't want the job all you had to do was say no." He leaned down, mouth close to Blair's ear, "I almost believed you, Chief. Isn't that a laugh. I thought 'maybe he did change, maybe I was wrong about him." 

"This was a test?" Blair pulled back, glaring at the taller man, "this was some fucking test?" He ran a hand through his hair. "guess I failed, but you never believed anyway, so it doesn't matter." 

"Good thing, I didn't," Jim said in a voice which grated harshly, "I would have looked pretty foolish telling my boss 'oh, Sandburg can't do it. He's a totally new person'. " 

"One word, Jim," Blair whispered. 

"Pull it together, Chief," Jim warned, "here comes your lover." 

Maya slipped and hand into his arm, staring pointedly at Ellison. "Oh, Mr. Ellison, isn't it? Whatever brings you here?" 

"Luck," Jim said, "all of it bad." He tore up his losing ticket and the pieces fluttered to the ground taking their place among countless other shattered dreams. "If you'll excuse me." 

"Not leaving so soon are you, Mr. Ellison," Maya asked sweetly. 

Jim gave her a regretful smile, "I'm afraid so. I'm not feeling very well. Blair, nice running into you. Miss Alcante." With a slight bow, he disappeared into the crowd. 

"I was watching you from the box," Maya said softly. "You and Mr. Ellison seemed very - intimate." 

"Did we?" Blair looked up from his form, a sour expression on his face, "he's an annoying man, Maya. He doesn't mean a thing to me." 

"Really?" Maya kissed him, pressing her breasts against him and wrapping one leg around his. "Prove it, Blair. Prove I'm the only one." 

******* 

"It's going very well," Simon Banks assured the group. "Mr. Sandburg has provided some key information already. We know there is at least one American agent working with Alcante, it's only a matter of time before we have the name." 

"Mr. Sandburg is here," the secretary announced. 

"Here?" Banks shot a look at Ellison but the agent remained with his back to them, staring out over the city like an ancient guardian. "I don't like him coming here." 

"Yes," Beardsley agreed with a frown, "I worry about his sort." 

"His sort?" Jim turned from the window, raking Beardsley with a hard glare. "What sort is Sandburg? The sort to risk his life because we asked it of him? Certainly not the sort we want soiling the Embassy." 

"Jim," Banks laid a restraining hand on his agent's shoulder. Blair opened the door at that moment, looking around until his eye fell on Jim. He started forward but suddenly stopped and stood uncertainly. "Mr. Sandburg," Simon greeted, "it's not really safe for you to visit here." 

"Uh, it's not a visit," Blair assured him. "I need advise." 

"Have a seat." Blair looked around as if sitting among this group was the last thing he wanted to do but eventually chose a chair near the door. 

"I, uh, couldn't find Jim - Agent Ellison and well, Maya," he stared at his hands a moment, "she wants us to get married." Jim made a small sound, one which brought Blair's head up but all he saw was Ellison returning to staring out the window. "I wasn't sure if the Agency wanted, I mean, should I?" 

"Are you willing?" Banks asked and an air of expectancy, a collecting holding of breath, gripped the room. 

Blair didn't answer at first. He waited, silent, staring at the floor but at last said softly, "she's in love with me." 

"And she thinks you love her?" Banks suggested. 

"Yes," Blair whispered, "she thinks I love her." He stood, casting a final glance at Ellison's broad back. "It's alright - to marry her?" 

Simon Banks chewed the tip of his cigar, "what do you think, Jim?" 

Ellison turned finally, his face unreadable. "I think it's a useful idea." 

Sandburg nodded, unaware of the sorrow showing in his eyes, "I guess it's settled. I'll marry Maya." 

"Chief." Jim stopped Sandburg's retreat, "make it a short honeymoon. We need to know Alcante's next move." 

Blair stared at him, then nodded and smiled. "Sure, Jim. I'm on the job, remember? I won't let you down." Giving them a jaunty wave, he left. 

****** 

"I don't like this," Francisco growled. "He comes back into your life through an amazing coincidence and you throw yourself at him. I have a feeling it's your money he wants." 

"Don't be stupid, Cisco," Maya said, "Blair's father must have left him a fortune. You're jealous, that's all." Francisco lunged, catching her wrist and pulling Maya to him. 

"Jealous?" His hot breath stirred her dark hair, "What have I got to be jealous about? You're blind, Maya, blind to what you have." He kissed her, a raw, brutal kiss then shoved her away. "Marry him, Maya. We will see who is right in the end." 

Maya agreed to a simple wedding and a brief honeymoon. Within a week Blair found himself living in the Alcante mansion, under the guise of beloved husband and nephew-in-law. The staff treated him courteously and Gustavo seemed to have genuine affection for him, only Francisco continued to regard him with suspicion. "Your cousin hates me," Blair remarked as Maya showed him around the huge house. "He acts as if I'm about to make off with the silver." 

"Well, you made off with me," Maya said and kissed him. "Cisco is use to having me all to himself. He can immerse himself in the business and leave us alone." 

"What is the business?" They descended a wide stone staircase, and walked along a hallway. At the end a glass paned door led out to the gardens but on the right Sandburg noticed a solid looking door, its lock marked UNICA in bewildering letters. 

"Importing," Maya said. 

"What's in here?" Blair tried the handle but it refused to budge. 

"That's the wine cellar. It's always locked," she informed him, kissing his ear and pulling him towards the garden door. "Francisco is neurotic about his wine collection. He keeps the key on him at all times." 

"Really?" Blair swept her up in his arms, raining tiny kisses over Maya's face and throat but his eyes remained fastened to the one door forbidden to him. 

******* 

Jim carefully chose a bench as far away from the playground as possible but still the faint squeals of laughter set his head to throbbing. It seemed lately as if his skull were constantly on the verge of exploding and the news he'd received mere moments earlier had only exacerbated the dull ache. Ben Chavez, one time Alcante party guest and undercover DEA agent, had just become the latest crime statistic. His body had been pulled out of the Mapocho river, a gunshot to the back of the head execution style. Ellison tried to ignore the queasy roil of his stomach, telling himself it had been the strong smell of rotting flesh which clung to his nostrils, but deep inside he knew the sick feeling came from fear. These people played hardball and the Good Guy's star pitcher was an untried kid whose whole life up until being called into the game was sex, drugs and anthropology. "Damnit, Sandburg," he muttered, "where the hell are you?" But his sharp eyesight answered the question almost immediately. A familiar form appeared at the end of the walkway, hurrying towards him. 

"Jim," Sandburg and took a seat. 

"'bout time. What have you got?" 

"A locked room." At Ellison's sour look he added, "Maya gave me the grand tour and the only place I'm not allowed is Francisco's precious wine cellar." 

"So whatever evidence we need is more than likely kept there," Jim said. "Where's the key?" 

"He's got it. Never leaves him, from what Maya said." 

"Then you'll have to get it from him and find out what's so special about that wine bottle and how it effects the Cali cartel." 

Blair offered him an incredulous look and said sarcastically, "Oh, right, I'll just get out my secret decoder ring and set to work." He took a deep breath, "sorry, it's just I'm stupid, I know I'm gonna fuck this up somehow." The utter despair in his voice, the anguish which made his eyes look like great dark holes ripped through a pale sheet of parchment, left Ellison reeling. It touched something deep inside him and sent his heart lurching against the walls he labored so hard to maintain. 

"You're doing great, Chief," he avowed with reckless affection and if he'd been able to see himself at that moment would have been appalled by the pride shining like a beacon from his eyes. A sudden thought prompted him to suggest, "why don't you suggest Gustavo throw a big shindig? I'll show up as a guest, you manage to get the key and together we find out the secret." 

"I don't know," Blair said, "Maya thinks there's something between us." 

Jim narrowed his eyes, sweeping Blair with a penetrating gaze. "Tell her you're inviting me so I'll see how deliriously happy you are and will get the hell out of your life." The wind whipped a stray lock of Sandburg's hair across his face and for an instant Jim wanted only to capture it in his hand but betrayal presses the walls of a heart closer and closer each time it occurs and Jim Ellison had been on the receiving end once too often. His heart had no room any more, so he sat staring at chestnut locks with a pained expression showing upon his face. "Make it next week, okay? I have to fly to Berlin on Friday but I'll be back in time." He rose, strolling among the laughing, carefree mob but he heard only the faint voice behind him, the man cursing himself and the world. 

********** 

The night of the party arrived after a week of frantic preparation on Myay's part. She'd grasped the idea with delight, and persuaded her Uncle to make it the social event of the year. Blair helped her, getting caught up in the details and almost forgetting the real purpose of the evening. Gustavo invited the cream of Santiago's society and shortly before eight a line of Limos stretched around the block. Blair watched Maya fit herself into a slinky red dress which clung to her breasts and trailed behind her like an ocean of flames. Diamonds glittered at her wrists and ears and her black hair swung in a ebony curtain. Blair gazed into her lovely face and felt a bubble of remorse rise within him. She didn't deserve this, not really. She was a pawn just like him. 

"Blair, Blair," Maya shook his arm. "You have to finish dressing." 

"Oh, yeah, I was distracted," he said, eyeing her. She smiled, and planted a kiss on his lips. "Hey, think Francisco would loan me a pair of cuff links?" 

"Probably, go ask him." 

Blair did just that. He knocked on Cisco's door, heard the shower running and slipped inside. A quick look around showed Francisco's key ring on his dresser. It contained several different keys and for an instant Blair blanked, unable to decide which might be the needed one. A shimmery haze covered his vision as sweat dripped down his temples and into his eyes. It was then, as he blinked repeatedly that UNICA appeared like a neon sign. He knew that collection of letters, it had been on the lock and now it appeared before his eyes, etched in memory as well as the brass facade of one particular key. Sandburg moved fast, snatching up the ring and sliding the key around. In the adjoining bathroom, the sound of the shower stopped, only to be replaced by the stall door opening. Bare feet squelched on tile and a blast of warm, moist air erupted from the doorway. "Uh, Francisco?" Blair called, still working at the key. "Can I borrow a pair of cufflinks?" The key tumbled free, he grabbed for it, clutching so tightly he could have read the name brand like Braille. But his body betrayed him, lubricated by terror, the key squirted from between his fingers, tumbling end over end, striking a table with a tiny jingle before landing on the carpet. Maya's cousin strode into the room at that moment, drying his hair on a towel and Blair quickly set his foot over the evidence of his betrayal. 

"Yeah, of course," Francisco sighed. He retrieved a jewelry case from a drawer and pulled out an expensive looking pair. "Don't lose these, Sandburg." 

"Thanks, man," Blair smiled, fiddling with them until Alcante went back into the bathroom. Only then did he lift his foot and with shaking hands stooped down, grabbed the key and bolted. It was safely in his pocket twenty minutes later when Ellison arrived. Jim wore a regular black tuxedo but he'd chosen a green patterned vest which lent him an air of unpredictability that turned heads. Sandburg couldn't hide the smile his one- time lover inspired. "Jim. You came, I wasn't sure." He held out his hand and Jim clasped it in both his. The key. Solid and hard, passed between them like a jolt of current with each man flinching, just a little, at the contact. 

"I wouldn't miss it, Chief," Jim said. His seductive smile and confident gaze raked the room. "Quite a place you have here. I'm impressed." 

Blair managed a realistic laugh, "it's a palace. Let me show you around, I've got a map." 

"Later," Jim whispered, "here comes the little woman." Maya sailed up, her red dress a wrathful cloud billowing at her heels. 

"Mr. Ellison, so nice of you to come." She held out her hand, smiling when he bent and placed a gentle kiss upon it. "Such a gentleman and so handsome. Don't you think so, darling?" 

"Yes," Blair said and avoided looking directly at Jim. 

"Do take care of him," Maya insisted. "I'll see to the other guests." She beamed, and left them. 

"We need to take it slow," Jim warned as he followed Blair towards the main hall. "She isn't going to let you out of her sight. Let's hope the Champagne holds out until you can get the key back." 

Blair froze in his tracks, shock rounding his eyes and mouth. "I hadn't thought of that! What if they need more?" 

"We'll have to give Maya the slip and then do it quickly." But it took longer than they had hoped. Several people stopped them as they wandered in the general direction of the terrace. Blair, having been pulled aside by one of Gustavo's elderly friends, escaped in time to see Joseph the butler extracting another chilled bottle from the cooler. 

"Will there be enough for the evening, Joseph?" Blair asked. 

"I hope so," Joseph replied and commenced filling glasses. 

"Time is running out," Blair whispered when he and Ellison met up again. "Joseph is going through Champagne faster than he expected." 

"Maya is still doing her eagle eye," Jim said, and indicated the figure engaged in conversation near the grand staircase. He and Blair sipped at their drinks, smiling, nodding so that to their audience it appeared as if they were merely catching up on things. Ellison paused, head tilted and eyes fixed on the red gowned woman. "She says I make her nervous," Ellison reported with a wicked grin. 

"Oh, you can hear that?" Blair's expression changed, got thoughtful and some of the old spark reasserted itself. "You know, I've been doing some research, Jim. There's an old legend about guardians, members of prehistoric tribe whose acute senses let them......." 

"Down, Chief," Jim growled. "I'm not a lab rat and we don't have time." Blair colored, and took refuge in his drink. "Let's split up. You said there's a garden entrance beside the wine cellar?" 

"Yes, out the terrace doors and around back. I'll meet you there." They parted just as Maya drew near. 

"Enjoying yourself?" She asked. "Your Mr. Ellison is an impressive man. I've had many of my friends asking about him. I told them all he was available." 

"Jim'll be glad to hear that," Blair said and kissed her cheek, "he's a lonely man." A few moments later he was able to get away, casually making his way down a back staircase and towards the garden door. He could see Jim's big shadow and hurried to open the door. "In there." Ellison used the key. "I'll guard the door, just hurry." 

Jim slipped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in through barred windows. Row upon row of wine bottles, lined the walls casting inky shadows across the floor. He started at one side, quickly searching for anything which would reveal the room's secret. Here and there were shipping schedules and these he memorized in case they proved important. As he made his way to the far wall, a slight discrepancy in the wooden panels made him stop. A section of the wall didn't align correctly and with a little prodding it swung out to reveal a safe. Jim concentrated, aware that he had to hurry but knowing instinctively that he must force his hearing to pick up the tumblers falling. 

"Jim!" Blair's voice mingled with the sound of the safe opening as well as a bottle shattering on the floor. Ellison realized only then, that he'd zoned out, his attention had been solely on the safe and somehow he'd knocked over a wine bottle. "Jim," Sandburg scurried into the room, stopping when he saw the mess. "Shit! We gotta get this cleaned up." He stooped and began shoving shards of glass under the counter. 

"Wait a minute." Jim knelt beside him. Even in the near dark he could see the shimmering residue which coated the inside of the glass. "This is cocaine, Chief." He dipped a finger in it, brought it up to his lips and gagged as the powerful narcotic ripped through his system. "Look, there's a narrow gap here," he held up what remained of the bottle. "They're putting the coke in here and shipping it through. Wait a minute! I thought I knew that name." 

"Who?" Sandburg had most of the mess cleared away and began looking for an empty bottle. 

"Latterly. He's a chemist." Blair offered a blank stare. "His father owns the largest glass factory in Columbia. This bottle," he fingered the shard of bright green glass, "there's something about it that masques the smell. Drug dogs couldn't detect the cocaine." 

"Great," Blair muttered. His search had yielded a nearly identical bottle. He filled it at the sink while Ellison retrieved the cork and seal. It didn't fit very well but would survive casual inspection. "Let's get out of here." Jim locked the door behind them and handed Blair the key. 

"Too late, Chief," Jim whispered. I hear footsteps." 

"I don't hear...." Jim pulled him into a shadowed arch, pressing back into the hard stone and hauling Blair as close as he could. "Kiss me!" 

Sandburg did. For several seconds only their mouths existed. Blair could feel his heart being sucked from his body by the suction of Ellison lips on his. It was like the nights they had shared, the times when they had simply held one another, whispering in the dark. Then Jim broke away. "Push me off, Chief." Blair hesitated but the soft scrape of a shoe reminded him of their charade. 

"Damnit, Ellison," he shouted and shoved Jim away. 

"Am I interrupting?" Maya asked. She cast a look first at Blair then at Jim. "I'm sorry, I just thought as his wife I should know if my husband is in love with another man." 

"Maya, I'm not....." 

But Ellison cut him off. "It was a long time ago. You won, Maya." He gave her a little salute, darted a look at Blair and faded into the shadowed grounds. 

"He was drunk, Maya," Blair explained. "He said he'd cause a scene unless I agreed to me him down here and then," he shrugged. "Forgive me?" 

Maya's cold eyes raked him and Blair could feel the chill from a foot away. He'd begun to fear the jig was up when she shook her head and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Blair! Why do you test me like this?" After a moment, she met his gaze with surprisingly dry eyes. "We won't speak of this again." 

"No, never." They headed back towards the stairs and as they did, Francisco Alcante stepped out of the shadows. 

"Cisco!" Maya blushed. Her cousin's fiery gaze said he'd seen it all. She placed a restraining hand in the middle of his chest. "Blair, it might be best if you go on. I'll explain the whole thing to Cisco." Sandburg weighed his options, clearly leaning towards refusing. "Please, Blair." Finally, with a stiff, nod, he left. 

"That - that cocksuker!" Francisco spit. "How dare he rut with another man and then touch you...." 

"It's not like that," Maya protested. "Ellison was drunk. He made a pass at Blair, that's all." She soothed her cousin with gentle words and calming touches, controlling his temper as she had since childhood. "Were you following me?" She asked softly. 

Alcante shook his head, his handsome face regaining some of the color fury had leached from it. "Joseph needed more Champagne. I was about to," he fished in his pocket, withdrawing the ring. It contained only three keys and none of those bore the distinctive UNICA brand. "My key. My key is missing." 

"You must have...." 

"No!" Cisco grabbed her by the arms, shaking Maya. "Your loving husband. He was in my room earlier." 

"No, no, Cisco," Maya pulled away, pale and trembling. "No." She spun on her heel and fled up the stairs. 

****** 

Blair watched the cab carrying Ellison pull away then turned from the window. He caught sight of Maya coming quickly up the stairs. She looked shell shocked. He hurried to her side, "Maya, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing," she lied. "Cisco is such an ass sometimes. He's...." The man in question appeared at the top of the stairs and Maya broke off her explanation at sight of his expression thunderous. Blair shrank back from the power of that rage, pulling Maya with him. For the rest of the evening he stayed clear of his wife's cousin. And when the guests were all gone, they mounted the stairs together. 

"Maya?" Uncle Gustavo stood in the doorway to the den. 

"Go on up without me, baby. I promised Uncle I would explain some of the more astronomical costs for this evening's success," Maya said. Blair smiled, kissed her and went to their room. The strain of so much emotion took their toll. He stripped down to his boxers and settled gratefully between the sheets. He wanted nothing more than to sleep and closed his eyes - but he didn't sleep. An hour later, when Maya slid silently into the bed beside him, Blair lay unmoving. And only long after her breathing had fallen into the rhythmic patterns of slumber did he rise from the sheets. Careful not to make a sound, Blair ghosted across the floor and sidled out into the hallway. Francsico's door lay on the opposite end of the long corridor with Gustavo's in-between. The need for silence sent him barefoot down the carpeted hall but each step he took seemed to reverberate like a gong. He crept to the door, tried the handle and eased inside. The room reeked of alcohol and windows rattled with the force of Cisco's snores. Blair moved to the dresser and fumbled the key back into place. It was then that he noticed Cisco's great shuddering snores had stopped. He turned, afraid it would be the last move he ever made and found that Alcante had merely rolled onto his stomach. When his heart began beating once more, Blair left without a sound. Maya lay exactly as she had when he left. Blair climbed into bed and sank into sleep. 

He slept soundly, not waking in the early morning light as Maya imitated his movements and slipped away. Blair did not hear her soft curse upon entering Cisco's room and discovering the missing key back in its accustomed place. He slumbered on as she picked it up and made her way down to the cellar and never heard the soft gasp which escaped her lips as her keen eye picked out the fresh drops of water in the basin. Nor did he wake when his wife inspected the wine bottles and found a 1980 Pommard in the middle of Cisco's meticulously arranged row of 1979 vintage and then the broken shards so hastily shoved beneath the shelves. Blair Sandburg never heard her return to her cousin's room and softly call his name. 

"Cisco. Cisco, wake up." 

"What's wrong, baby?" Alcante asked as he raked a hand through the tangled locks of his jet hair. 

"Blair, Blair is wrong." 

A look of pure joy swept over Cisco's features. "I knew it! It's that Mr. Ellison, isn't it? I knew there was something more than a drunken pass." 

Maya shook her head. "No," she whispered, "that's not it." She met her cousin's gaze and said simple, "I'm married to a drug enforcement agent." 

Cisco sat stunned, his beard shadowed chin bobbing as he struggled to find words. "We'll - we'll," he stuttered, "we'll kill him! That lying bastard." 

He shoved back the covers, staggering to his feet. Maya stopped him with a withering glare. 

"Don't be an idiot, Cisco," she hissed. "Do you know what the cartel will do to me - to us! if they find out I'm married to an agent? Do you? Remember Chavez? He got off lucky. Uncle Gustavo will insist we, too, face the penalty for betrayal." 

"Then what?" Francisco demanded. 

"We must not let anyone know," Maya said. She frowned, standing suddenly to prowl the room like a deadly cat. "We must make him believe he's free but yet keep him leashed." She paused, chewing one elegant nail as ideas flitted through her mind. A cold, nasty smile blossomed on her pretty face. "If my dear husband were to fall ill," she said thoughtfully, "and stay ill for some time......" Maya turned to her cousin and in the pale light, her eyes glittered with evil delight. "If he were to slowly wither and die, no one would know." Francisco stared her, held rapt by the depth of her revenge. He smiled then, and pulled her into his arms. 

********** 

He picked up the book with a determined hand but after only half a page dropped it. The words swam sickeningly on the page and the dull hammering inside his skull threatened to split it open. "what's wrong, my love?" Maya asked. She perched on the edge of his chair, running her fingers lightly through his hair. "Another headache?" 

"Yeah," Blair agreed, "a real crusher." He pulled his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose. "I think I need new glasses." 

"I brought you this," Maya said. She held out a cup, smiling when he took it. "It's tea. It should help." Blair sipped at the hot liquid. "Drink it all, babe." She watched him as Blair drank it all, then kissed him lightly. "Cisco and I have some business to deal with, why don't you lie down?" 

"No, I think fresh air would help. There's a bookstore on Recoleta I've been wanting to explore." 

Maya trailed a gentle hand down his arm, "don't over do it, my love." When she had gone, Blair put his head back, hoping the spinning would stop soon. He had no idea what was wrong with him. A life of spent in poorly lit libraries bent over minuscule script meant he was well aquatinted with headaches, but this listless dragging at his body, sucking him down until all he wanted was to find a quiet place and just lie still was entirely new. He had no energy, and if it Banks' call hadn't come Blair knew he never would have left the house. He fought the overwhelming desire to lie down, forced himself to his feet, and made his way shakily to the front door. Blair walked several blocks, unwilling to hail a cab which might later identify his fare as coming from the Alcante house and going to the American embassy. Sunlight beat down on him, washing out colors and searing his eyes until they watered. He wanted to sit down and rest but knew he had to hurry. "Taxi!" A battered yellow car, pulled to a stop and he climbed in, giving the address. 

Banks greeted him warmly, "Mr. Sandburg. I have news." Blair took a seat, squinting up at Banks. "Is everything all right? You look a little pale." 

"Headache, the light's kinda bright." 

"Oh, let me draw the shade," Banks did just that, dimming the room until Sandburg sighed in relief. "I hear a lot of people get too much sun when they first come down here. You have to be careful." 

"I will be," Blair assured him. "Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?" 

"Two things," Simon picked up a folder, rifling through the pages until he found one he pulled free. "We got a preliminary report on the wine bottle. It seems the glass is the key. It's a new substance, the cocaine is bonded directly to it, and coated with a film which confuses the drug dogs." 

"So it's undetectable?" Blair asked. 

"Apparently. We know Hans Gruber's father owned a glass factory in Germany before the war. Our guess is he's carried on the family tradition but added a little twist to it. We need to know the location of this new factory. Do you think you can help us?" Banks waited for his answer. 

"I can try," Blair told him. "I'll do what I can." He began to rise but turned back to Banks with a curious look. "What was the other thing?" 

"Oh, you'll have a new contact next week." Banks pulled out a cigar, his sharp eyes watching Blair's face with interest. "Jim is out." 

"Does Mr. Ellison know this?" 

"Yes, he's requested it. This was his last assignment," Banks went on. "It's all routine from here on, too boring for our Jim." 

"I can imagine," Blair whispered. He stood, and moved slowly to the door. "I guess I'll see him at this weeks rendezvous?" 

"Yes," Banks rose as well, opening the door. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Sandburg." Blair didn't hear him, he could think of nothing else but being all alone for the rest of his life. 

******** 

"This is getting to be a habit, Chief," Jim asked when Blair, carrying a small bundle, finally sat down beside him on the bench. "Have trouble getting away from your wife?" 

Sandburg shook his head, "no, just took me a bit longer to cross the park." Jim opened his mouth to make a biting comment but the sudden realization of how tired Blair looked stooped him. Blair's skin had a pasty appearance which accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. 

"Are you alright?" Something seemed off, something Jim couldn't quite place it; a smell, a sound, Blair's sluggish manner, slightly bleary eyes spoke of trouble. 

Blair raised his eyes, staring at him, then said with a faint smile, "hangover." 

"Rough night? I told you all that hard living would take its tool," Jim said with disgust. "Jeez, Sandburg, can't you go a night without?" 

"Nah," Blair said and grinned weakly, "I'm the original party dog." 

"Any news?" Jim asked, hoping to divert Blair's attention from his decadent ways. He did not want to hear the lurid details, his dreams provided enough of those. 

"No." 

"A social call, huh?" 

"I wanted to give you this," Blair picked up the bundle he'd put down and handed it over. 

"What is it?" 

"The jacket you loaned me that night in Cascade," he said with a shrug. "I don't need it any more - so warm down here, you know." 

Jim stared at the jacket - it was wrinkled and looking a little worn as if Blair had spent many hours wrapped inside it. He crushed the image from his mind, and forced himself to drop the jacket carelessly beside him. "Cleaning house, then." 

Blair pushed himself to his feet, standing with feet braced for a long moment. "Goodbye, Jim." 

"What?" Ellison stood and caught his wrist. Those two words carried such a ring of finality it sent a shiver up his spine. "What do you mean goodbye? Where are you going?" 

Sandburg graced him with an ironic smile, "home, James. I'm just going home." Jim watched him leave, watched until the familiar shape had melted into the crush of bodies hurrying along on their way. Instinct told him to go to Blair, to find out what was wrong but he couldn't not now, not when Blair wasn't his to care for, to love. With a heavy heart, Jim turned int the opposite direction and walked away. 

****** 

"But you look very pale, Blair," Gustavo Alcante insisted. "I think you need to see a doctor." 

Blair shook his head, "no, it's nothing. I hate doctors, they always want to cart you off to a hospital." 

"He just need to get acclimatized," Maya said, looking up from pouring coffee. "I'm sure he'll be feeling better soon." She handed cups of coffee to her cousin and uncle then one to Emil Latterly, "just give him time." 

"Maybe a trip would help," Latterly suggested. "I will be heading up to the mountains next week. I have a place in Puerto Montt......". 

"Emil!" Francisco interrupted, "Blair needs rest not mountain climbing." Latterly shrugged and sipped at his coffee. 

"How long have you been feeling this way," Gustavo asked. Blair smiled at the old man, he liked Maya's uncle. 

"I don't know. It seems like a long time." He picked up his own cup and sipped at the dark, rich liquid. It trickled down his throat in a soothing wave, spreading warmth throughout his body. He wanted to just let go and be enveloped by the comforting warmth. "I'll be okay," Blair reassured his wife and set the cup down near Latterly's. 

"Well, if you don't, my offer stands." He reached for his cup, picking up Blair's by mistake. 

"No!" Maya cried then caught herself and said, "that's Blair's cup. If he's ill we must not spread it." Latterly carefully set the cup down and when he did, Blair looked from the murky contents up into his wife's face. Maya raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry but her flushed expression and rapid breath said all Sandburg needed to hear. Francisco did not meet his gaze when Blair turned to look at him. It all made sense now. He'd been a fool to try and pull this off. "I think I'll go to bed," Blair said. It took all the strength he possessed to make it to his feet and the room swam so wildly he could barely remember which way led to the door. 

"Do you need some help?" Gustavo asked gently. 

"No, no, I'm okay." Blair made his way slowly across the room, keenly aware of the muted voices behind him. 

"I don't like how he looks," Gustavo said softly. "He's too pale and weak." 

"He's fine," Francisco assured his father. 

The door loomed just ahead, swaying with menace as Blair struggled with the handle. He got it open but a vast expanse of tile floor lay between him and the mountainous stairs. Sandburg took a step, using the wall as support until he was sure he could make it. The banister was now only a few yards away and when he reached it he would be able to pull himself to his room and the phone beside his bed. Jim would come if he called.....Cold horror swept through Blair, chilling his blood. Jim was going away, might already be gone. He had to hurry, had to get to Jim. 

Shadows wavered, sinister and dark as they closed around Blair. He raised a hand, trying to push his way through but they were so strong and he had no energy. "No," he gasped and that was all they needed. Shadows enveloped him, pressing around him like mourners at a grave. 

"Get him upstairs," Francisco's voice directed. Hands pulled at Blair, people spoke but he couldn't make out more than a few words. 

"Put him to bed," Maya ordered. "Take the phone away, Mr. Sandburg must not be disturbed, he needs complete rest." Blair looked up to see his wife's face. Distorted, twisted, Maya's expression changed before his eyes, gone was the dutiful wife and caring lover, and it her place a demon wearing a triumphant smile. That horrifying sight burned itself into his mind, following him into the darkness and fueled the nightmares which overtook him there. He tried to call out to Jim, wanted with all his heart to call out, but the world faded before he could open his mouth. 

*********** 

Darkness surround James Ellison, it had fallen slowly as he sat waiting on the park bench. At first he'd raged inside, unable to stop himself picturing Blair tangled in sheets with his beautiful wife. Maya would be the recipient of that blazing smile, of the tender kisses and knowing that he had driven his lover to that place only served to twist the knife blade of pain deeper into Jim's heart. After hours of frustration, Jim rose from his place and hurried back to the Embassy. 

"Mr. Banks can see....." Jim pushed passed her, storming into his boss's office. 

"Simon, something's wrong with Sandburg." 

"What? What are you saying, Jim?" Banks regarded him with grave eyes. 

"He didn't show. Blair always shows for our meetings and this time he didn't." 

"He could be having trouble...." 

"No." Jim dropped into a chair, running his hands over his face. "No, Blair always makes it. And last time," the memory of Sandburg's pasty complexion, the faint scent he couldn't place at the time came back, "last time he was sick. He said it was from a hangover and I - I was angry so I believed him." Ellison put his face in his hands, "damn! I should have know something was wrong but I just let........" He jerked to his feet, all ready heading for the door. "I've got to see him." 

"Jim! I won't have you messing this up. We'll be wrapping this case up in a few days then you can.....," Simon raked him with an appraising glance, "get on with your life in what ever way you see fit." 

"He's in trouble, Simon. I can drop in, I'm a friend of the family, you know." Giving his old friend a tight smile, Jim walked out. He didn't remember the drive to Alcante's place, all he knew was he had to get to Blair. It was almost as if his lover were calling out to him. He mounted the steps and was soon greeted by Joseph's dour countenance. "The family home, Joseph?" Jim asked with forced geniality. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison," the butler said, "Mrs. Sandburg and Mr, Francisco and Mr. Alcante are in a meeting." 

"That's alright, I'm here to see Mr. Sandburg." 

The butler's face took on an even greater look of sorrow, "that is not possible. Mr. Sandburg is ill and confined to bed." 

Jim reigned in his emotions, forcing calm to the forefront. "How long has Mr. Sandburg been ill?" 

"Quite some time," Joseph said quietly, "we've all been very worried." 

"Could you tell Mrs. Sandburg I'd like to see her?" Joseph nodded and showed him to a seat in the hall. Jim watched the old man disappear into what must be the den. He turned his attention to the close door and the words spoken within came sharp and clear to his ear. "I caught sight of a man following me at a discreet distance last week," a German accented voice was saying "and when I went into the bank later that day, the same man came in to do business." 

Jim knew Gustavo Alcante's voice when he spoke. "They could be on to us. Something must have happened to alert the authorities." Other voices chimed in, all of them concerned and demanding the leak be found and eliminated. A movement at the corner of his eye drew Jim's attention from the closed door. At the head of the stairs a door had opened and Maya slipped out. She disappeared into a different room and in that instant Jim made his move. He bolted up the stairs two at a time, moving as silently as a strong wind over grass. He gripped the handle, twisted and melted into the shadowed interior. A heavy odor clung to the air, cloying and sweet like boiled licorice, but it couldn't conceal the underlying stench of sickness which permeated the room. Ellison moved further inside. He stood in what appeared to be a sitting room, it was a long, elegant room mined with fragile looking furniture. The odor of vomit and urine was stronger when he crept towards a shadowed doorway on the right. 

Jim relaxed and let his eyes focus on the bed, a large mount of blankets concealed whomever lay within its massive frame but Ellison recognized the heartbeat, though it had never sounded so slow and hesitant before. "Blair! Blair, my god." He abandoned caution, racing to the bed to throw himself on his knees. Blair blinked up at him - pale, dark circles under his dulled eyes. 

"Jim? You came?" 

"Of course," Ellison kissed him lightly on the forehead. The hot, clammy feel of Sandburg's skin sent his heart thundering in his chest. "What's wrong?" 

"Poison," Blair whispered. He reached up weakly to trace Jim's face, "they know. Maya and Francisco, know." 

"We have to get out of here," Jim said. He laid his cheek to Blair's breathing in the stale scent of sweat and sickness, but nothing but the life flowing through Blair's veins meant anything to him. "I'm so sorry. I knew that day, I knew you were sick but I was so angry - with you, with the situation but myself mostly. God, I love you, Blair. I love you." He pressed a kiss to Sandburg's lips and freed himself of the feeble hand holding him. "Clothes?" He looked around, spying jeans and a dress shirt tossed over a chair. Jim brought them back to the bed, shoving the blankets and lifted Blair into a sitting position. 

"Why did you come back?" Blair asked. "You were going away." He let Jim pull his shirt on, barely able to sit up on his own. Ellison got his legs into the jeans, working them up Blair's legs and over his hips. 

"I had to," Jim whispered. "I had to see you one last time and tell you," kneeling there in the that bedroom, in danger of being exposed as an American agent at any moment, Jim looked up into the trusting eyes. He saw only the love which had been in them all along. "I was wrong, Chief. I've loved you since I first saw you but I couldn't tell you. And then, then when you agreed to the mission, to seducing Maya, I thought......I thought you must still care about her." Ellison reached up to cup Blair's face between his hands, "seeing you with Maya was killing me and I thought by leaving I could leave it all behind - I could forget what an idiot I've been." 

Sandburg smiled then. He found the strength from somewhere and blessed Jim with a smile. "You love me. Say it again, Jim. It's keeping me alive." Ellison slipped Blair's feet into sneakers and pulled him carefully to his feet. 

"I love you, Chief. More than anything in the world, but we have to get going. Can you walk?" 

"I don't know. They gave me pills, to sleep," Blair told him. 

"Okay, I'll do all the work, just hold on to me and don't let go." Jim held Sandburg to him, alarmed by the feel of ribs where solid flesh had been only days earlier. Fever made the touch of Blair's skin burn against Jim's, and the slowing beat of Sandburg's heart echoed loudly in his ears, spurring him on. Ellison struggled, doing his best to keep Blair on his feet but it proved a hard task with Sandburg fading into near unconsciousness. "Stay with me Blair. Keep talking. Did you learn anything about the factory?" 

"Anything?" Blair leaned heavily against him, "yes. Puerto Montt, that's where Gruber has a place. He was going to take me there." Jim nodded, no really caring but needing to keep his lover focused on something. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, coming closer. No time for stealth, Jim threw open the door and stepped into the hall. Maya Carasco Sandburg gasped and the cup in her hand fell to the floor with a crash. 

"Ellison! Blair! What's going on?" 

"We're leaving," Jim growled. His hand slipped down to the gun in his waistband. "Don't cause any problems, Miss Carasco." Voices from downstairs floated up to them. Jim turned to see Francisco climbing the stairs, Gustavo and his associates remained in the foyer looking up. "Would you like me to tell your uncle's friends about this?" Jim asked when Francisco reached them, "about the American agent in your midst for months now?" 

"No, no, you can't," Maya pleaded. She placed a hand on Francisco's arm, eyes filled with terror. "Uncle Gustavo will have us killed, Cisco. They must get away." 

"What's happened?" Gustavo called. 

"Blair collapsed," Maya said, "Mr. Ellison heard him and rushed to his aid." 

"I called the hospital when I found him," Jim pulled Blair closer. "Keep breathing, Chief," he whispered. They were halfway down, "only twenty yards to go, my love." 

"I've been saying that boy needed a hospital," Gustavo confided to one of his guest. 

Blair's grip loosened, his head sagged against Jim's cheek. "I'm so tired, Jim." 

"We're almost there," Jim whispered. Louder he said, "open the door, Francisco." Cool air washed over them, making Blair tremble harder. Ellison got his fast fading lover to the car, opened the door and settled him. Maya and Francisco reached for the rear door, but Jim stopped them with a hand to the gun he carried. "You aren't going." 

"But they're watching," Maya said. She cast a haunted look back over her shoulder. Jim could clearly see Gustavo, Latterly, Gruber and the others watching them. Latterly leaned close to Alcante's ear. "There's no phone in Mr. Sandburg's room. It was removed." Slowly dawning realization grew on Gustavo's face. 

"I'd say they aren't just watching." Jim drove away without looking back, he knew he'd never look back. 

******** 

epilogue 

"Spying on the neighbors now?" 

Jim Ellison turned from the window, smiling at the sight which greeted him. Stretched on the bed like a sleepy cat, Blair Sandburg was a sight to behold. A week in a private hospital had purged the poison from his system and added on a bit of the weight his forced illness had take off. He still looked a little pale but nothing like the version of death warmed over Jim had rescued from Alcante's mansion. 

"I've given up spying," Jim informed him, "too dangerous." 

"I've heard that," Blair said and reached out for him. Jim went into his arms, carefully molding himself around the contours of Sandburg's lean body. "You meet all sorts of undesirables in that line of business." 

"And desirables," Jim reminded him. 

"Yes, I'd have to agree." He breathed a kiss against Jim's collarbone, nuzzling the muscled column of his throat until Jim shuddered. "Why were you so afraid, Jim? Why let me go when one word would have stopped me?" 

"I couldn't," Ellison sat up, eyes darting to Blair's face and away again, "I had no right. Remember the first night we made love? You mumbled something in your sleep - you said I was afraid I'd love someone I should hate." Jim uttered a tiny laugh, "you were so right, Chief. I wanted to hate you. I thought you were some fucking punk, wasting your whole stinking life on drug and sex, and then - then I fell for you so hard it hurt. Something deep inside me saw you - the real you and I couldn't stand it. I told myself it was up to you if you loved me you wouldn't go and if you did - ," he stopped then. Sandburg pulled himself up beside his lover. Neither man spoke for some time and when he did, Blair did so in a very quiet voice. 

"We've been through hell, Jim, both of us. I can't promise we'll always have sunshine and rainbows but we survived the worst possible." He reached out, taking Jim's hand in his. "From now on I will say it everyday - I love you." 

Ellison squeezed his hand. "It's going to be difficult, Chief. I'm out of a job, you've been blacklisted and slandered, Simon is going to kick us out of this fancy suite on Monday. What're we gonna do?" 

"Have sex?" Blair suggested. They made love, sweaty, messy love which tangled the sheets in knots and left them gasping for air, and the next morning they sat down to plan a new life. One without drug dealers and secret agents. One which would keep them together for the rest of their lives. 

The end.


End file.
